


Thirst

by hhavenh



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Ike's headcanons regarding Volke, M/M, Prince Renning being a cockblock, fe-kink-meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9135961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhavenh/pseuds/hhavenh
Summary: It isn't his fault, but Ike honestly doesn't do much to fix the situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts -[Ike is an accidental voyeur](http://fe-kink-meme.tumblr.com/post/153445020621/ike-finds-himself-in-a-position-to-be-a-voyeur), and [masturbates to thoughts of Volke pre-Tower of Guidance](http://fe-kink-meme.tumblr.com/post/151957966396/rd-before-they-enter-the-tower-ike-masturbating)

Ike’s left knee is numb.

That, and his back is going to be sore tomorrow. He's hunched over enough to brace against the ground, but his hands will be soiled when he leaves. He'll have to clean the dirt from beneath his fingernails before anyone notices. Ike would stop fisting his hands if he could, but he doesn't have the attention to keep on top of it.

It's cold outside but sweat prickles on the inside of his wrists and the flat of his palms. Ike wipes them on his trousers again, but that only makes the taut fabric at his crotch shift. There's an ache growing at the base of his neck but Ike doesn't relieve the angle. He'll hurt, but that’s later.

The only thing Ike cares about right now is that he can't really  _see_.

Elincia's uncle is a large man. He can look Caineghis in the eye without tipping his head and has hands the size of a true tiger’s paws. His chin isn’t weak, his shoulders broad. He’s thicker outside of his armor than Ike would’ve expected; a mountain of a man in the way dad used to be, not that thinking about him is anything Ike means to do right now.

Not when he's like this; hunched over in the back of a supply tent, staring through the slitted canvas of the next one over.

The tear isn't that large. Just enough to see a side angle of Elincia's uncle and where he's got Volke bent over a table, or maybe a crate. Something draped with a dark cloth and large enough to bear the strain. They haven’t undressed more than enough to get skin against skin, so Ike only gets to see the pale curve of Volke’s ass every time Elincia’s uncle rocks back.

That’s honestly all Ike’s working with right now. Can’t see how Volke stretches around a cock, or if he’s even hard.

Ike wants to believe he is. That there’s a chance Volke likes a good fuck, and that he’d be up to letting Ike work him off with his hand. Or maybe his mouth. Ike could even finger him loose and suck him off at the same time, get him so worked up and over the edge that Volke would just go slack against the bedroll after he came.

Would pull him up and turn him around then, until he was sitting back on Ike’s cock and going tight at the new stretch. Could keep him there, or Ike might lay back and roll to a side, so that he could leverage against the floor with his feet and still pull at Volke’s nipples. That-, yeah, bet Volke would get into that. That he’d bare his throat and lift his hands up to catch in Ike’s hair, Ike then free to stroke down his stomach and back up his chest.

Hard to tell under his jacket, but Ike likes to think Volke has a trim waist. Be easy to move him then, to notch a hand above each side of his hips and rock him back onto Ike’s cock, until he just let his shoulders down and panted all hot and heavy against the floor.

Wonder how much that would cost.

Not just bedding him, but getting Volke undressed enough to really enjoy everything he's got to offer. Ike just can't get past the thought of stroking down from Volke's collarbone with an open palm. Wants to feel the hair on his chest. To see the muscles of his back move as he's fucked, to roll a peaked nipple between thumb and forefinger and feel Volke  _squirm_.

He'd do so much more than Elincia's uncle is right now.

It's a waste of gold -not that Ike actually saw any change hands- just rutting at Volke like that. Can't see his face, or appreciate how the skin of his back must be going taut with every thrust. The long ends of his jacket are just shoved up out of the way, and his pants are barely past the swell of his ass. Could still grip it, but Elincia’s uncle isn’t even doing that much. He isn’t really touching Volke at all, both his large-knuckled hands braced against the flat of the crate, or whatever it is.

Ike would fuck Volke so much better.

Ike will fuck him better. There’s no way he’d be denied, not after he gets the coin around. And certainly not if Volke is willing to let some fifty year-old guy bend him over.

Elincia’s uncle might not be that old, but the point still stands. Ike’s got a pretty good shot. A really good shot. Might not even have to pay, if he managed to make Volke go red again. Just like he did yesterday, when Volke wouldn’t look him in the eye and the skin above his mask flushed just enough to notice.

Probably could have had him right then, a sack full of gold still in his hand, if Ike had known what he knows now.

Maybe not there though. Too open, too easy for someone to come interrupt. Volke doesn’t seem like the sort to go for another round if the first one doesn’t work out.

But that’s fine. Ike doesn’t quite have it all planned out yet, but he knows he’ll show Volke a good time. Ike always does his best work in the moment anyway. 

This moment might be just about done. Elincia’s uncle stills his hips and bends forward over Volke’s back. He says something too low to hear. Not sure if Volke responds, but a second latter Elincia's uncle pulls out and flips Volke by his hips. It's-, damnit, it's too quick to see if he's hard, but then Ike gets distracted by the sudden reveal of Volke’s thigh.

Ike palms his cock before he thinks better of it.

Shouldn’t. It's one thing to watch, and another all together to touch himself while Volke gets fucked by another man.

That's what Ike told himself four minutes ago, but now he's not that sure. It feels good to take himself in hand, to feel his own thickness and imagine how nice Volke's hand will feel instead. Or the way his tongue might slide, so slick and languid, like maybe he’d actually enjoy being put on his knees.

Ike bites his lip, and then has to choke back a sound when Elincia’s uncle gets Volke’s pants all the way down one leg, even his boot off. Still can’t see if he’s hard, Ike isn’t that lucky, but his leg is long and lean, and Ike can almost feel what it would be like to scrape teeth down the inside of his thigh.

Ike’s cock twitches beneath his palm.

And again, when Elincia’s uncle sets Volke back on the crate and grips him by the underside of his knee. He tips him back and holds his leg to the side, and then snaps in so hard, so quick and  _sudden_ , that Volke’s mouth falls open on a soundless gasp.

He’s hard. He  _has_  to be. Can still only see Volke at an angle, and Elincia’s uncle hides most of him, but Ike can still see his toes curl. He can see the way Volke rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, and how his eyebrows curve up under his bandana, and-,  _fuck_ , and the way the skin on the underside of his thigh quivers every time Elincia’s uncle slams in. He’s braced back on one of his own arms now, and his mouth is open again. He’s breathing hard. Not hard enough to hear, not yet, but he’s got to be close.

Ike is. Just from watching him, just from seeing the way Volke’s skin indents around the fingers under his bent knee, and how he closes his eyes when Elincia’s uncle starts to barely pull out before snapping  _right back in._ There’s no quit, no lag. The man moves faster than anyone his size should, faster than Ike can palm at himself, his hips snapping in so  _constant_ , so quick and hard and-.

And Volke goes rigid.

His eyes are still shut. His teeth are clenched, lips pulled back like a wolf mid-snarl. His shoulders, his thighs, every bit of him seizes up all at once and-, goddess, and he looks so  _tight._

Ike wants to feel him, to reach out right now. Wants to suck a claim under his chin and grip his flexing thigh hard enough to leave a mark. Wants to shove Elincia's uncle out of the way and press up into Volke with his fingers, to feel how tight he really is, wants to lick his mouth open and hear every breathy sound that passes his bitten lips. Ike wants to tongue at his nipple through his jacket, wants to feel him quiver, to feel him _tremble,_ when he fists the oversensitive skin of Volke’s spent cock just to hear him _keen_.

He wants all of that and more, but Ike can’t.

Not right now.

Soon though, as soon as he can. Maybe tonight. Might even be able to convince Volke to stick around until morning, or tire him out enough that he’d rather stay. Could wake him up the same way he’ll spend the night, slick and stretched wide on Ike’s cock.

Just the thought, just the bare image of Volke looking back over his shoulder with drowsy eyes and parted lips, is almost enough to push Ike over the edge.

It’s distracting, even jarring, when Volke whispers, “Didn’t need to do that.”

Elincia’s uncle snorts, “But I insist.”

And…and Volke smiles.

Barely, but he does.

Ike’s cock twitches again.

And then it  _throbs_  when Elincia’s uncle flips Volke back on his stomach and slides in quick enough to make their skin slap.

Ike’s knee is still numb and his neck is definitely going to hurt, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t dare switch knees. He palms his cock through his trousers and holds his other hand over his mouth, teeth closed around either side of his forefinger. He stares at the bounce of Volke’s ass. He listens to the quiet smack of skin against skin.

Ike kneels there in the cold dirt and finishes before Elincia’s uncle even starts to breathe hard.

\---

Hours later, after Ike’s cleaned the dirt out from beneath his fingernails and gotten himself a different pair of trousers, he finds Elincia’s uncle standing out in front of the  frost-encrusted wagons. He doesn’t look like a man that had the Fireman bent over a crate not that long ago, or even like one that would. He reminds Ike of Giffca, with the stern way his lips move when he talks.

Ike wouldn’t bother him, doesn’t really have much to say to him, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s Volke he’s talking to.

So Ike steps over, even though he still has no idea how to go about inviting Volke back to his tent. Or of how to get Elincia’s uncle to give someone else a turn without actually saying that. “Hey,” he calls, and when Volke's eyes find his, “Yune said something about you coming in the tower with us.” Ike honestly has nothing else to lead with, but it makes Elincia’s uncle frown. That’s good. Probably.

Volke just shrugs, “It’s become necessary.”

Watching his jaw move beneath his mask makes Ike’s mouth go a little dry. He might not have him take it off later.

Later should probably become sooner, though. Certainly before they breach the tower…just in case there is no after.

Ike wipes his suddenly damp palms down the sides of his jerkin, but subtle. Like he’s pulling it straight.

Elincia’s uncle looks away from him and frowns down at Volke, “I was not aware that you intended to join the vanguard.”

Volke’s lifts his eyes. He doesn’t elaborate.

Well. Now or never. Ike clears his throat and sucks in a quick breath. For some reason he can’t look away from Volke’s hips, and how they jaunt when he shifts weight over his other leg, “So-.

“Sir Fireman,” Elincia’s uncle cuts in, tone expectant enough that Ike forgets himself and quiets, “I’ve a matter that would benefit from your attention.”

That-, that isn’t even fair!

A leather pouch gets tossed before Ike can interrupt, the clatter of coin obvious when it hits Volke’s palm.

Ike tries anyway, “Hey-.”

He’s reclaimed Volke’s eyes, but Elincia’s uncle talks over him again, “A small matter, but urgent nonetheless.”

“I-.”

“Details,” Volke says, past Ike’s pathetic attempt to get control of the situation.

“My steed-,” Elincia’s uncle begins, and as the most unpleasant imagery Ike has ever been subjected to flashes behind his eyes, “-requires some lavender extract. There ought be an apothecary somewhere in this district, if memory serves.”

…What?

The pouch disappears and Volke turns away, but not before he gives Ike a strange look. Like he’s confused. Maybe suspicious. It’s not a look Ike appreciates. “…Give me an hour.”

He steps away, and Ike means to invite himself along -since the floor of an apothecary might be his only option now- but Elincia’s uncle just….gets in the way.

Entirely in the way. So much in the way that Ike has to pull up short before he walks right into him. “Um-.”

“Sir Ike.” There’s a gloved hand between them, and Ike doesn’t really have an option but to clasp it. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, my apologies.”

“That’s alright.” Ike’s hand is a little numb when he gets it back. Elincia’s uncle and Giffca are getting more alike by the minute. “Glad you’re still…around.”

Ike didn’t mean to say that. It-, it’s just not really what he was going for, but he’s a little distracted trying to keep Volke in his sights. Which…

No, he’s already gone.

And the reason why is looking down at Ike like he just stomped across a ballroom with muddy boots.

“…Quite.” And before Ike can extract himself from whatever this is-, “I must offer you my thanks in delivering Crimea from foreign occupation.”

He says it like Ike single-handedly stormed Melior and punched Ashnard out on the courtyard stair.

“Yeah,” Ike says, because he really doesn’t feel like getting into it. “I did what I could.” Abrupt, a little blunt, but that’s usually all it took to end a conversation when Ike tried a fleeting hand at nobility.

Elincia’s uncle nods, like he approves. But he keeps talking, and sort of looms to the left just as Ike’s thinking about sliding a step that way. “As must we all. Allow me, in gratitude, to part with some advice before we enter the goddess’ lair.”

Um-. “Didn’t know you were coming along.”

Elincia’s uncle doesn’t blink. “It has become necessary.”

Ike isn’t sure how to take that. “…Right, well-.”

“Now, this advice. In deference to circumstance I will be but brief.” Elincia’s uncle squares his shoulders and is somehow taller. He’s got a tone that makes Ike doubt that he actually knows the meaning of the word brief. “It has been my great privilege and honor to watch many a man and woman grow to adulthood in service to Crimea.”... No. No, this really doesn’t seem like something they need to-. “As such, I am very familiar with the manner in which youthful passions-,” no no  _no_  “-can reduce a reportedly sensible individual into a slack-jawed  _imbecile_.”

The urge to defend himself gets to Ike's mouth anything else, even with the way his gut starts to curl in on itself, "I wasn't _slack_ - _jawed_ -."

"In similar vein, I have observed many a hopeful _child_ crusade after those beyond their ability to truly appreciate."

Oh, as if Elincia's uncle can even _talk_.

Ike doesn't say that. He wants to, _he wants to so badly,_ but he also wants to employ somesort of tactical retreat that can erase this entire conversation from ever having actually _happened_ -.

“In conclusion,” Elincia’s uncle says, but he doesn’t just say it.

He’s got this sort of…condescending…overbearing…smug as anything…irritation thing going on with his face. Something that already has every single thread of Ike’s body and soul cringing in the worst sort of expectant mortification, a kind of bone deep dread that's nearly worse than the time Titania asked him why he was washing his own sheets.

Elincia’s uncle even leans forward and he drops his voice, all the while staring at Ike with the last bit of eye contact they will ever  _ever_ again share, “Control your thirst.”


End file.
